


Performance Anxiety

by caityjay



Series: Touch the Ground [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caityjay/pseuds/caityjay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie's come back from his tour, closing the Broadway chapter of his life, and moved into a new house with his husband. He's looking for a job, and has applied at a local middle school to teach drama to 12-year-olds. What gave him the impression that this was a good idea is anyone's guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Performance Anxiety

Aaron was sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling softly as he watched his husband's struggle in front of the mirror.

"What if they don't like me?" Jamie said for the fifth time, holding a powder blue tie against his shirt. "Maybe I should just not go."

"You're going, and they'll love you," Aaron replied again patiently.

The redhead sighed, tugging off the gray shirt and riffling once more through the closet. "I don't know what I'm doing. This is nothing like an audition."

"It's exactly like an audition," Aaron argued, standing to collect the discarded shirt, shake it out and hang it back on its hanger. "Only there's less singing."

Jamie let out a nervous laugh, handing his husband yet another unworthy tie. "I wish it were singing. _Good afternoon, Mister Campbell, sir_ ," he began, making up the tune as he went along. " _You should hire me, because I have experience in the field I will be teaching!_ "

Aaron laughed, neatly arranging the ties on the closet rack. "There you go. Who can say no to that?"

"Maybe I should become a busker. Or a stay-at-home bum. I mean, you can afford the mortgage on your own."

Blue eyes flashed in the mirror and Jamie winced. "We've had this conversation," Aaron reminded him, voice pitched even lower than usual.

"I know, I'm sorry. I wasn't serious." He sighed again. "Besides, I'd go insane if all I did was sit around here all day. And I'd probably get arrested or knifed or something if I started singing on the street with my hat out." He added another shirt to the pile.

"You're nervous," Aaron said, ignoring the shirt wrinkling on the floor to step closer to his husband, rubbing his hands over freckled shoulders. "That's to be expected. How did you deal with nerves when you were backstage?"

Jamie snorted. "Warm-ups."

"Okay," Aaron took a step back and gestured to the space between them. "Show me."

Green eyes blinked twice before crinkling in a grin. "'Kay," was the only warning he gave before he started swinging his arms around and making loud _whoop_ ing noises which Aaron tried vainly to imitate. It didn't take long for the scene to devolve into a mess of giggles, the two lovers leaning on each other for support.

With a deep breath, Aaron leaned his forehead against his husband's, closing his eyes and sighing contentedly.

"Thank you," Jamie muttered, snaking his arms around the other man's waist. "Needed that."

"I know." Aaron also knew that Jamie had a job interview in twenty—make that nineteen—minutes, and was still standing in his socks, slacks and undershirt in front of the closet. "Hey," he continued gently, raising his hands to rub his lover's arms encouragingly, "you like acting. You like kids. Don't give me that look, I know you do. _And_ I know you can handle them when they get out of hand."

Jamie sighed again, but seemed much more relaxed.

"You're plenty qualified. You'll do fine."

The redhead burrowed against Aaron's chest, squeezing him briefly. "Thanks," he repeated.

Aaron reluctantly pried his husband off his torso (eighteen minutes) and retreated back to his perch on the bed. "Black shirt," he said, nodding towards the closet, "and the light green tie. Brings out your eyes."

Jamie grinned. "However would I dress without you?"

"Flamboyantly, most likely."

Jamie snorted, buttoning the black shirt and reaching for the light green tie. "I love you."

That might have been a little out of left field if Aaron didn't know his husband so well.

"I love you, too. Now get out of here or you'll miss your cue."

The redhead grinned at him in the mirror as he finished knotting his tie. "Aren't you going to wish me good luck?"

Aaron stepped up and kissed his husband on the lips. "Break a leg."


End file.
